The Most Important Sunflower
by SweetMars03
Summary: Each day for the past year Ivan has given Yao a sunflower. Each day Yao has refused to accept a gift from the scary Russian boy. But what will he do when he finally realizes that he loves Ivan just as much as Ivan loves him? Is it already too late? Or will the love bloom like the flowers of his garden.


Inspiration:

The most important sunflower:

Yao stormed away huffing angrily. When he walked back to his group of friends, they looked at him weirdly. "What happened?" Asked Kiku, his younger brother, noticing that Yao was red in the face and almost literally fuming. "That no good Russian bastard!" Shouted Yao. His friends looked around, confusedly, before spotting the pale, white haired boy a couple of meters away, holding the stem of a giant sunflower that seemed to have been bent. But though the flower was ruined his mood, apparently, was not. With a bright smile, he raised the hand that held the sunflower and waved to Yao as the Chinese boy pushed his friends away from the spot. "Goodbye, my sunflower!" The violet-eyed boy said eagerly, before turning and heading to his class.

The next day it happened again, but this time, Yao's friends noticed. They were walking to school and when arriving at the gate they saw the Russian standing there, in the middle of winter with his weird coat that reached past his knees and his face buried into his long scarf, his nose and cheeks rosy red from the cold. He was once again holding a sunflower but this one was slightly smaller than yesterday's though it was a brighter yellow. When he saw Yao, he lifted his face from the scarf in order to smile at the brown-haired boy. "Good morning, my sunflower!" Yao stared in surprise as Ivan once again held out the flower for him. "You didn't like yesterday's flower so this time I brought you the one most yellow that I could find in my garden." The smile never leaving his face, Ivan stretched out his hand to offer the Chinese boy the flower. "What the hell!?" Yao screeched, going red in the face from pure fury. He ripped the flower from Ivan's hands and threw it on the ground, stomping it with his foot. But Ivan only smiled wider. "I see you do not like this one either. I apologize, my sunflower. Have a nice day!" Ivan turned around and headed towards the building. Later Yao was told that Ivan had waited in the cold for hours.

And this continued happening.

During math class the Russian tapped his shoulder and offered him the one that had been growing for the longest in his garden.

As he was leaving the lunch room, the pale boy gave him a smile and the plant that he said grew closest to his house.

On his way to English Yao was greeted by a: "Hello, my sunflower," and a truly extraordinary plant that had orange and red mixed in with the yellow hues of the petals.

Several times, Ivan greeted him at the gate, once with an entire bouquet because "I couldn't decide which one I wanted you to have the most."

Yao grew more and more frustrated and embarrassed and disgusted by each new flower. Each time he yelled at the Russian and refused the flower. Each time the Russian nodded and promised to bring another tomorrow, one that, hopefully, he would like.

One day, the day that the Chinese boy was given the sunflower that the violet-eyed boy had raised with most care, Yao went over to the table where the Russian was eating his lunch as soon as he saw the other stand to leave. Yao sat down on the table and glared at his friends. There weren't many. Three boys that had not dared to eat while the violet eyed boy was with them. "What is the fucking deal with that bastard and his goddamn sunflowers?" Asked Yao, irritated. The three boys were slightly startled by his language but Yao couldn't care because that morning's sunflower had particularly pissed him off. The three boys remained quiet until the one who seemed to be closest to Ivan answered him cautiously. "Well, Ivan really likes sunflowers. He's had that garden since third grade, I believe. He defends it with his life. He gets particularly angry if anybody messes with it." But Yao wouldn't believe that. Couldn't believe that. How could he when he had stomped, torn, shredded, tossed, ripped, cut and, even once, burnt, dozens of them in front of Ivan's very eyes and the pale boy had just smiled kindly and promised him a new one? But he decided not to tell this to the boys instead asking: "Why the hell does he keep giving them to me?" The three boys had no answer for him, being just as baffled as he was by the continuous presents.

And continuous they were.

Yao was given the prettiest, the smallest, the strongest, the most loved, the one with most petals and the one that attracted most bees.

The shortest, the weakest, the most wonderful, the first one that the Russian seen when opening his eyes that morning and the last one that he saw before falling asleep the next night.

The one most people looked at, the one with green mixed in with yellow, and the one that his sister had wanted and yet he gave to Yao.

Yao was given all of these with smiles and greetings and pet names. He was given them with unwavering promises and kind eyes and sweet goodbyes.

The one that looked like those in fairytales, the one he had named and the one that he had woken up and felt like gifting Yao with.

And at one point Yao stopped yelling. At one point Yao stopped calling Ivan a bastard. At one point Yao stopped destroying flowers brutally. At one point Yao waited expectantly each day to receive his "Hello, sunflower," and to hear which it was that Ivan was giving him today.

The day that Ivan had stayed sick at home, he sent his sister to Yao with a flower and a note that said _"This one reminded me the most of you. Have a nice day, my sunflower,"_ and Yao realized that he missed Ivan like there was no tomorrow in which he'd come back to smile at him with kind violet-eyes.

He went home and yelled at himself, and yelled at the wall and yelled at the ceiling and yelled at his pillow. He drove himself crazy all night and the next day he was too tired to drag himself out of bed to get to school on time. His mother had yelled at him but it was no use. When he finally did wake up, way past noon, it was because his brother had come back from school and was calling his name. When Yao saw him, he felt like bursting into tears right then and there. Kiku was holding a sunflower, with a tag that clearly read, _"I picked for today the one I thought would remind you the most of me. I love you, my sunflower."_

Yao was a mess that night. He refused to eat and instead locked himself in his room to cry and nobody understood why it was that he was crying but him. He cried because he had treated Ivan so badly for so long and yet the boy had never been angry with him and even now he had never failed to give Yao a new sunflower each day in hopes that one day he would find the one that Yao liked. And now the boy was telling him that he was loved by someone that he had treated like garbage.

Yao didn't sleep that night either, but skipping two days of class in a row was not an option. His mother kicked him out of the bed and he was forced to go to school. Upon arriving he realized, startled, that it was the last day of school. That a year had passed by in a blink of a purple eye and a flash of a kind smile and Yao had barely noticed. He didn't see Ivan but his sister did not approach him. Yao felt panic rising in his chest. He had to see Ivan again. He had to do something.

He ran out of the building when class was dismissed and he searched for Ivan like a madman. Desperation crept up his spine as he ran around calling the boy's name. He finally found him, much later, standing at the foot of a huge tree, at the edge of the school property. Yao's eyes shot wide open as he stared, dumbfounded. The tree was decorated with more sunflowers than he could count, so many in fact that you couldn't even see the green of the leaves. Each sunflower was different and he could almost hear Ivan's voice in his head, telling him why each one was special and why he wanted Yao to have it.

 _This one looks pinkish, my sunflower._

 _This one is the roundest, my sunflower._

 _This one just caught my eye more than any other this morning._

 _I love you, my sunflower._

Yao did not know what to do with himself as he saw Ivan standing there, probably having been there all day, waiting, patiently for Yao. Just like he had been waiting all year. Just like he had been waiting all his life.

Ivan smiled but his eyes were sad and Yao heard pain in his voice.

"Good afternoon, my sunflower. I hope you had a nice day."

And Yao wished that he could tell him that the day couldn't have been better now that he was welcomed under the shade of a tree that held everything he never knew he wanted. But Ivan's eyes were still watery and his voice still sounded like he had a knot in his throat.

"I know that… That I have failed to bring you the flower that you'll like even when I have tried very hard to find it." Ivan looked down at the sunflower that he held and Yao looked at it to. It wasn't the biggest that Ivan had given him. It wasn't the brightest. It wasn't the most remarkable considering so many other ones that the Russian had brought for him. But by God, it was the most perfect flower that Yao had ever seen.

"This is the last sunflower from my garden, though, so I really hope that you like this one. But if you don't, I will plant a new garden, I promise, and I will go every day to give you one and-" Yao finally let the tears come down. He ran forward and he did what he should've done that first morning when Ivan called his name just so he could smile and give him a sunflower. He wrapped his arms around Ivan's shoulders and pressed his face into the warm chest, crying. He held on as tightly as he could. He felt Ivan's heart hammering underneath the cloth of his coat and he felt as slowly, tentatively, a pair of arms wrapped around his waist and held him in the embrace that he belonged in. "Do-" Ivan's voice was weak and he stuttered as he tried not to hope too much. "Do you like it?" He asked. Instead of answering Yao just held on tighter. Ivan let the sunflower float gently to the ground so that he could hold Yao better. He carefully put his nose into the others hair and kissed the top of his forehead, pleading with the universe for this not to be another dream but it couldn't be because he could feel Yao's tears and his finger digging into his shoulder much more clearly and he heard words that repaired a world he did not know was broken. "I love you." And Ivan cried too and they held each other and at some point, they both sat down never letting go, just holding each other as tight as possible and feeling complete. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry." Yao whispered, voice coming out broken but Ivan shook his head and wiped the tears off the Chinese boy's face. "Do not apologize, my sunflower. I am not upset at you. I've never been upset at you. I love you." Ivan whispered and for a moment that was all they could say.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

And as Ivan caressed Yao's face with a smile on his, a thought occurred to Yao.

"Which-" He stopped as Ivan passed his hand over his shoulder and Yao sighed in pure happiness.

"Which one is the most important?" He asked. He had a perfect memory of all the flowers. None had been labeled that way. When Ivan looked at him it was with wide eyes and an open jaw. Slowly he composed himself and he put his arms around Yao's waist, bringing him close, so close their lips almost touched. Almost. But then Ivan ducked his head into the curve of Yao's neck and snuggled it there. "You of course." He whispered, his breath tickling Yao's skin. "You are the most important out of all of them, my sunflower."


End file.
